


You like me.

by roseknight



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-04-06 10:11:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14054673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseknight/pseuds/roseknight
Summary: Kuroo nearly lived a Daishou-free life, and sometimes he looked back and wondered how much better and how much worse that would've been.





	You like me.

**Author's Note:**

> For my friend, the actual #1 Kuroshou shipper.

Kuroo nearly lived a Daishou-free life, and sometimes he looked back and wondered how much better and how much worse that would've been.

It was his last year of elementary school when they met. Daishou's father was transferred to Tokyo and Daishou ended up in his class, with all the allure of a sudden transfer student.

But Kuroo lost interest after a day or two. Daishou was sickeningly polite, especially to the teachers, and otherwise kept to himself, reading books or doing his homework between classes and at lunch. There wasn't much Kuroo felt he had in common with a scrawny goody-two-shoes, so once Daishou's novelty wore off, it was like he'd been there in the background all along.

So even then, Kuroo might've lived the rest of his life barely knowing Daishou, perhaps only seeing him on an opponent's court occasionally, never remembering his name. But then they started playing volleyball in gym class and Kuroo, cursing his saint-like heart, took pity on the friendless transfer student, standing on the sidelines, not yet chosen for anyone's team. Perhaps it was an instinct nurtured from always looking out for his childhood friend Kenma, or perhaps that instinct was what had led him to take interest in Kenma in the first place, but Kuroo felt like he should do something to help out.

"Hold on a sec," he said to his teammates before they began a game. He jogged over to Daishou, cradling the volleyball in the crook of his elbow. "Wanna play with us?"

Daishou quirked an eyebrow at him. "What, are you doing the poor, lonely transfer student a favor? Guess you're more of an airheaded jock stereotype than I thought."

"...What?" There was a positively acidic undertone to Daishou's voice that was anything but the sugar-sweet one he'd used up to then.

"Seems so." Daishou snatched the volleyball from Kuroo and took it to the other side of the net, apparently joining their team. They didn't seem too pleased with this turn of events.

Until Daishou scored a service ace that flew right by Kuroo.

-

Later, Kuroo learned that Daishou had been playing volleyball even longer than he had. When he saw Daishou for the first time at a middle school tournament, he finally looked the part, having grown over the months since their elementary school graduation.

Kuroo, naturally, hated him.

After he saw the seediness under Daishou's mask, Kuroo was always on the lookout for it to slip and reveal itself to other people. But it never did. The teachers adored Daishou. Their classmates started fighting over whose team Daishou would join during gym. Kuroo alone knew what Daishou was really like, and he knew that Daishou knew that knowledge was burning him up. Sometimes, when no one else was paying attention, and when Kuroo was starting to think he was imagining things, Daishou would smirk at him and ignite Kuroo's dislike all over again.

It was a relief when they split up for middle school. Daishou could've been out of Kuroo's life for good, but once again, it was Kuroo's magnanimity that got him into trouble.

He volunteered to help with children's volleyball classes at the local community center. He hadn't expected Daishou to be a volunteer there. A well-established one, at that. They weren't so much older than a lot of the kids that went there, but that was exactly why volunteers their age had been requested. The kids clung to them, preferring their help with techniques over the help of the older coaches. And they all seemed to know Daishou by name already, though- and Kuroo could've gagged- some of them just called him "big brother."

"Okay, everyone, we have some exciting news today!" a cheery woman named Yukiko said as she ushered Kuroo into the gym his first day. "We have a new volunteer. Please say hello to Tetsurou-kun!"

"Hello!" the kids chorused, bright-eyed and fidgeting, far more ready for a game than a meeting.

"Tetsurou-kun, why don't you shadow one of our other volunteers for today to get the hang of things?" Yukiko said. He nodded in agreement, which he certainly wouldn't have had he known the identity of the volunteer in question.

A boy his age walked out of the storage closet, a bag of knee and elbow pads in hand. Yukiko called him over, took the bag, and said, "This is Suguru-kun. He's been helping out here for several months now, so you can teach you everything you need to know."

Kuroo stared. "You're here."

"Oh, do you two know each other? That's perfect, then!" She started distributing the pads to the students without any, and Kuroo was left in a forced conversation with Daishou.

Daishou didn't look any happier about the situation, though his smile hadn't dropped until Yukiko turned her back. "Just follow my lead and don't ask me any stupid questions. Which in your case means don't ask any questions."

"My only questions are for the universe." Kuroo sighed heavily. "What kind of karmic punishment is this and what did I do in a past life to deserve it?"

"I'm sure you've done enough in your current life, too. Don't sell yourself short," Daishou said with mock praise, and then proceeded to ignore Kuroo's presence for the rest of the afternoon.

It was no mystery why Daishou was there. It took little observation to see the way Daishou ingratiated himself on every staff member with the slightest connection to a real volleyball team. Daishou had gone from teacher's pet to coach's pet and was no doubt building a fine resume and network in the process, all as a middle school first-year.

The weeks passed, and Kuroo could feel their mutual animosity growing all the while.

Early in September, Kuroo arrived for his volunteer shift drenched from a typhoon. It had been in the forecast for a week and the clouds had gone from ominous to apocalyptic as school let out. Still, he'd headed to the center as usual, only for the rain to break halfway there and the winds to push and pull at him the rest of the way.

"Tetsurou-kun," cried Yukiko when she saw him. "I'm sorry, we were so busy calling all the students' families that we hadn't gotten to our volunteers yet. We're closing up for the day."

Kuroo wasn't surprised, though it did make his brave dash through the rain seem a little silly in hindsight. "Since I'm already here, is there anything I can do before I go?"

"I'd rather you just get home safe. Do you have a family member you can call?" She peered up at the sky, looking worried.

Kuroo hadn't shown up to be another problem for her to deal with, so he said, "Sure, I'll call someone."

"Please do."

Both of his parents worked, so his only options were his aunt or a cousin, but he didn't see the point of dragging someone else into the typhoon if he didn't have to. While his fingers were hesitating over the numbers, he happened to look up and see Daishou arriving in a similarly soaked state.

It was, in a word, hilarious.

Kuroo cracked up, pointing and laughing with glee. Daishou always looked so exaggeratedly polished that Kuroo couldn't help indulging in seeing him in a less than pristine state.

Daishou gave him a withering glare. "As if your stupid hair hanging half over your face doesn't make you like twice as bad as I do." He took cover under the slight awning the protruded above the door, lowering and shaking out the umbrella that had proved largely useless.

Kuroo managed to tone his laughter down to an occasional chuckle. "The center's closed. We came here for nothing."

"Of course it's closed." Daishou rolled his eyes.

"If you knew that, you wouldn't have come here."

"Are you kidding?" Daishou said. "It takes real dedication to show up in a typhoon. I'll go show my face, let them fuss over me for a minute, then head home."

Kuroo felt his disgust for Daishou increase yet again. "You really are a piece of work. Are you sure you don't want to be an actor instead of a volleyball player?"

Daishou ignored him, leaving his dripping umbrella by the doorway as he went in and got the same news Kuroo had just received. Kuroo's good humor had all faded away now and he decided to get away from Daishou and the typhoon both as soon as possible. He raised his own umbrella and set back out.

The wind wrestled with his umbrella, doing its best to bend the spokes out of shape and spray rain under its cover to splash Kuroo. This made for slow going, and it wasn't long before Daishou caught up.

After they continued on down flooded streets and crosswalks that now required wading, he at last snapped at Kuroo. "Stop following me."

Kuroo laughed, mirthlessly this time. "Trust me, I'm not. I'm just as saddened as you must be to discover we live in the same direction."

The universe decided to deliver another of its karmic punishments, but thankfully, this time it wasn't directed towards Kuroo. Daishou's umbrella was ripped from his grasp, carried away on the wind somewhere out of sight before he could react.

Kuroo snickered and kept walking. When he chanced a glance back, Daishou looked more sullen than ever, and he was shivering too.

Kuroo frowned and looked ahead of him again, but slowed his steps. At the next crosswalk, he would turn down the side street where his family lived. There was no way Daishou would be heading the same way. Kuroo had mere seconds to win an internal argument.

Breathing in like he was preparing for a battle cry, he turned to Daishou when they reached the crosswalk and forced his umbrella into Daishou's hand.

"Don't drown," he said, and it came out as more of a splutter than something witty. He dashed into the rain towards his own home and whatever Daishou shouted after him was stolen away by the wind.

-

Neither of them mentioned the typhoon after that and Kuroo never got his umbrella back. Pretty much the only thing that changed was that Kuroo began to realize how difficult doing things for Daishou was.

It gave Kuroo a fantastic idea for getting under Daishou's skin.

He bought an extra drink from the vending machine. Daishou threw it away unopened.

He offered to bandage Daishou's hand when a ball hit his hand wrong and caused his fingernail to cut his skin open. Daishou insisted on doing it himself, as awkward as it was.

He complimented Daishou's haircut. Daishou stomped on his foot the second no one else was looking.

Of course, Daishou typically reveled in the special treatment he wheedled out of others. But Kuroo was different. Daishou had always shown Kuroo his true colors, and he didn't want fake favors or Kuroo's faker smile that accompanied them.

In the midst of Kuroo's experiment, their middle school teams faced off in a tournament. They were second-years by then, and both of them starters. Kuroo was forced to recognize Daishou had actual skill and that he hadn't imagined his talent back in elementary school. Still, it was Kuroo's team that won, and after all the bowing and thanks required by etiquette, Kuroo found a moment to disappear from his team's side and approach Daishou.

He was mid-stretch when he saw Kuroo towering over him. "Go on and gloat."

"It was a good game," Kuroo said. "You're good, Daishou."

Daishou broke his stretching form and looked at Kuroo in disbelief. "You really came over here to make fun of me after winning?"

It was Kuroo's turn to look surprised. "I'm not making fun of you. I mean it. You're good and that's why I don't get why you try to suck up to everyone all the time. You don't have to do that. It just makes you annoying."

Daishou stood up, brushed a wrinkle out of his uniform, and said, "The annoying one here is you with your unsolicited opinions." He used his teammates as a physical barrier, moving deeper within their circle so Kuroo had no choice but to return to his own.

-

Kuroo went back to ignoring Daishou, but for some reason, he couldn't go back to not thinking about him at all.

It was inevitable that they found themselves leaving the community center at the same time again one day. But luckily, Kenma was in a texting mood. Kuroo kept his eyes glued to his phone, laughing aloud when Kenma sent him a screenshot of the game he was playing where it had glitched and made it look as though his avatar had a normal human head but the body of the dragon boss he was fighting.

"Isn't that your turn-off?"

Kuroo blinked and looked up, wrenched from the world of fantasy gaming and childhood friends and returned to the one where he was with his mutual enemy. He saw that he'd been about to walk right by the street that took him home. "I'm touched you remember."

"I could've let you keep going straight into a car."

"But you didn't," Kuroo said. "Don't tell me you've been hiding a soft heart all this time. Hiding it really, really well."

"Shut up and go back to texting your girlfriend," Daishou said.

"Kenma's not my girlfriend or even a girl. No need for you to be so jealous." He winked at Daishou and saw him turn red before stomping onward.

How did a cold-blooded snake even have the ability to blush?

That was Kuroo's first thought, and he pushed aside the ones that tried to follow. He already understood Daishou, and what was obvious was that Daishou despised him. Probably that, and nothing more.

-

Kuroo, for all he had in common with the cats he liked so much, rarely had a lazy afternoon. But one Saturday after a particularly grueling practice, he gave in and relaxed with Kenma at his house. Kenma's room was the antithesis of what would be expected from an athlete. Video games took up most of the shelf space and character goods from said video games claimed the rest. His desk was orderly and well-lit, but he spent more of his time curled up on a beanbag, ruining his eyes by staring at a bright screen in an otherwise dim room.

Hanging out with Kenma meant talking a lot while getting few answers, but Kuroo could respect that. It was kind of nice to be able to ramble on as he pleased, anyway. He could talk about volleyball, as though it didn't star in enough of his life already. He could share the latest anecdote about what his family's pets had gotten into. He could casually admit to liking guys instead of girls.

Kenma stopped pressing the buttons on his PSP for a full second, proof of his shock, though his expression of neutral interest in his game never wavered. Then he continued on. "Okay," he said.

Kuroo breathed out a silent sigh. Kenma's answer had been as underwhelming as he could've hoped for, and Kuroo changed the subject yet again, moving on to what high schools he was already thinking about.

For as long as Kuroo could remember, he'd never felt any genuine interest in girls. Maybe it was a phase, maybe he'd feel differently once he met the right girl. It didn't seem like it had to be a problem, not when he was barely a teenager, and his life revolved around volleyball. It didn't seem relevant.

Until it was.

His subtle suspicions were compounding, but he really didn't want to have something in common with Daishou. It was like reading a book and realizing you identified with the villain. And he really, _really_ did not want it to be this.

It shouldn't have mattered. But what made it worse was this: Kuroo despised Daishou, most definitely. But he also kind of wanted to kiss him.

It was like the admiration he'd had to admit after his latest volleyball match with Daishou. Beneath the surface, beneath the antagonism that was easy to feel, Kuroo felt other things. Not deeply. Sort of with a detached curiosity. But he felt them all the same.

-

Yukiko told him the community center was going to have a special event, a volleyball game with another kids' group. It would take place on a Saturday, and both he and Daishou were asked to volunteer. Both of them agreed.

"Nice bonus points with the management, huh?" Kuroo said.

"You could certainly use them."

The gym was packed that day, not just with kids but with parents and older siblings, shouting encouragement from the stands. Kuroo was busy with task after task, assisting the coaches, helping the kids warm up, cheering up the kids who got bumped or bruised and cried enough to be taken out of the game for it.

He was bandaging up a completely nonexistent wound to make a sniffling eight-year-old feel better when he heard Daishou's voice. It was that sickly sweet voice, the one Kuroo'd never heard personally directed at him and never wanted to, and he was using it to soothe one of the youngest kids there, barely old enough to register for lessons, who had gotten struck by such fear when it was his turn to serve that he'd dropped the ball and fled off court.

"I can't do it," the kid wailed.

"I know it's scary," Daishou said. "Everyone's looking at you and you have to do everything by yourself."

"I can't do it!"

"What if I told you a secret?" Daishou asked. His voice took on a conspiratorial tone.

"...What is it?" For a moment, the boy sounded somewhat more curious than miserable.

"Everyone else feels the same way," Daishou told him. "They want to run off the court and hide, because it's safer and everyone else seems braver than them. Serving is scary, after all. It feels like if you mess up, everyone will be disappointed. But it's not so scary if you remember that everyone else is just as scared as you are."

The boy sniffled a few more times, considering this new information. "Even you?"

"Even me."

He turned to the court. "I want to try again."

"Good," Daishou said. "Because the people who keep trying are the ones who win."

The kid ran back to his team and tugged on his coach's sleeve to ask for a second chance.

Kuroo had kept his back to Daishou throughout the whole conversation. He'd gotten sidetracked by eavesdropping and trying to figure out if there was anything but clichéd fluff to Daishou's words. He could almost believe Daishou meant what he was saying.

And it was unfortunate, because it was one of those things that made Kuroo feel something he shouldn't.

He cornered Daishou in the storage closet after the long day, when the small awards ceremony was over and all the kids had gone home. The door was left open only a crack, not enough for anyone walking by to look in.

Daishou didn't look up from where he was putting air into the more deflated volleyballs. "Make yourself useful or get out. Assuming you can be useful for two seconds, that is."

Kuroo swallowed the fear that felt a lot like that of a server who knew their next action could determine everything and put one hand on Daishou's shoulder. Daishou looked up, eyes surprised at the proximity, the contact, how Kuroo began to lean in.

Daishou pushed him away with sudden ferocity. "Freak." He let the volleyball and air pump fall to the ground and moved past Kuroo, slamming the door behind him. Kuroo was left alone with a cart of volleyballs, a flickering overhead light, and a renewed sense of self-doubt.

-

"Oh, Tetsurou-kun, isn't it so sad?"

"What is?"

"Suguru-kun won't be volunteering with us anymore. And he was such an upstanding young gentleman, too! I don't know how we'll ever replace him."

-

Kuroo became captain after the third-years retired and it was easy to forget about everything else.

"I'm going to Nekoma," he told Kenma as soon as he was sure. "Are you going, too?"

"What you're really asking is if I'm going to keep playing volleyball with you."

Kuroo grinned. "Well, obviously."

"I'll think about it."

Nekoma was a powerhouse. Kuroo was proud to have been recruited there and hungry to see what challenges the other powerhouses as well as the unknowns would bring them. Tokyo was overflowing with talent, and complacency was the same was giving up.

As humiliating and abrupt as his final encounter with Daishou had been, he'd gotten over it. Middle school was middle school. When he learned Nohebi would be one of the schools participating in an upcoming training camp and that one of its players was a certain Daishou Suguru, Kuroo vowed to pay him no special attention.

But his curiosity was strong, and it was easy to justify the usefulness of inside information on a rival school and the person who would almost definitely one day be its captain. So during a break, Kuroo sidled up to a Nohebi first-year. Kuroo couldn't remember his name from earlier introductions, but pretended nonetheless to have an active interest in him, which made the conversation easy to steer towards the team he played for, and finally, his teammates.

"How are the other first-years?" Kuroo looked around the gym after he asked his question, like the answer wasn't all that important.

"Daishou- he's the one with the number eight uniform over there- is already a starter," the guy, who'd reintroduced himself as Kawasaki, told Kuroo. "Apparently he was captain of his middle school team last year, so no wonder he's good."

"I heard he was." And witnessed it, but Kuroo omitted that fact.

"But get this," Kawasaki said. "He's lucky enough to be a starter, but he has a girlfriend too. Life's totally unfair."

There was a peculiar, icy sensation in Kuroo's chest, sort of like how he felt when the ball he was chasing dropped to the ground, the point unsalvageable. It made no sense. Kuroo took a long drink from his bottle of water and tried to talk again before his silence became awkward. "No idea how he has time for that."

"Tell me about it. And if I was lucky enough to date a girl as cute as Mika, I'd be talking about her all the time. But he just talks about volleyball." Kawasaki shook his head, looking utterly mystified.

Kuroo filed away the name of Daishou's girlfriend for future reference. A new suspicion came to mind. Kawasaki was calling this Mika cute, but Kuroo knew he'd have to disagree. That was something he'd never thought about a girl. And maybe Daishou didn't think it, either. Maybe Mika was a disguise, something to make Daishou look good, like a long history of volunteering and a clean-cut appearance. That would also explain why he didn't talk about her.

"Not much we can say about his priorities," Kuroo said, trying to wrap up the conversation. "We're the ones choosing to work our asses off in a hot gym on what could be a relaxing school holiday."

"Good point." Kawasaki grinned and Kuroo had to grin back at this most useful connection to Nohebi.

Hours later, when everyone was ready to collapse until morning, Kuroo found his chance to speak to Daishou.

Daishou was heading off with a bunch of bottles to refill one last time. It was something more often left to managers, but he was obviously trying to make a good impression, and the lowly status of a first-year allowed him to do it.

Kuroo followed after him. He leaned against the low wall where all the water spouts were lined up. "Your upperclassmen must love you."

Daishou, damn him, didn't give Kuroo the satisfaction of being startled. He filled the bottle in his hand to a perfect level, recapped it, and started on the next one. "You might be able to say the same about yourself if you were helping yours out instead of harassing a stranger from another school in your free time."

Kuroo rested his palms on the wall and leaned back, angling to see Daishou's expression. It was smooth and closed-off, like there were many miles of distance between them. "A stranger," he said. "That's a rude way to put it after all the quality time we've spent together."

Daishou angled the bottle so the gush of water from the spout splashed off it, drenching the front of Kuroo's uniform. Kuroo jumped back with a scowl and tried to wring the water out.

"See, I knew you remembered," he said. "You're trying to recreate the conditions of the day we had to walk home together in the typhoon."

At last, Daishou looked at him. It was just a small motion of his eyes, a cold glance that didn't last a second. "I can barely remember. Don't be so obsessed with a few minutes we spent together months ago. It's creepy."

So that was it. Kuroo was creepy. He was a freak. He was the only one who'd felt something different, something beyond annoyance or rivalry, and he'd projected it onto Daishou. 

"You're right. What was I thinking, pretending we had something special?" He shrugged. "Have a good evening buttering up your teammates."

"I will."

Daishou returned to the gym, arms loaded with bottles, and Kuroo knew he shouldn't feel left behind, but he felt a lot of things he shouldn't around Daishou.

-

The thought that came at midnight when Kuroo should've been sleeping was either an epiphany or more of the projection that kept getting him into trouble.

Kuroo had learned the principle of Occam's razor from a television show. According to it, the simplest explanation for an occurrence was the best one. If Kuroo followed that logic, then he would accept at face value that Daishou liked girls, liked Mika, and had genuinely been disgusted when Kuroo tried to kiss him.

But if Kuroo trusted his intuition, he could see another explanation: Daishou was lying about his own feelings because he thought Kuroo was lying about his. It would make sense. Kuroo had spent a lot of time going out of his way to tease Daishou. Daishou could've even seen the kiss as an extension of that.

This training camp was Kuroo's best, and possibly only, chance to clear things up. So after the coaches gathered everyone for a final pep talk meant to last them until the next training camp and everyone prepared to clean up and leave, Kuroo walked over to Daishou, slung an arm around his shoulder, and led him a short distance away. Daishou could've thrown him off immediately, but Kuroo had banked on him not wanting to make a scene with all his teammates nearby.

"Can you listen to me for thirty seconds?" Kuroo asked. "A minute, if you're feeling generous?"

Daishou shrugged his arm off. "No."

"Too bad, because I'm going to talk anyway, even if I have to follow you and keep talking about all this personal crap around your teammates."

Kuroo himself didn't know if he was bluffing, and Daishou looked unsure, too, so he plunged ahead. "I think I gave you the wrong impression about some things, so I wanted to apologize. We're in high school now. A fresh start sounds good."

It had been a battle to be mature long enough to say all that, but Daishou was unmoved. "As if you haven't enjoyed every second you've spent making fun of me."

"Oh, most definitely," Kuroo said. "But only when I was actually making fun of you. Not like when I did what I did to make you quit volunteering."

"You're lying, Kuroo," Daishou said. "You live to pull people's strings."

None of this was going as Kuroo'd hoped and rehearsed. He had one last resort, to be embarrassingly straightforward. "Look, I wasn't teasing you when I tried to kiss you," he said. He crossed his arms defensively, as if that would protect him from the consequences of his own words. "I was just doing what I wanted to do. I'm sorry I made the mistake of thinking you wanted it too."

Daishou narrowed his eyes at Kuroo, undoubtedly trying to gauge his sincerity. But after a minute, he looked away. "I like Mika," he said, and it stung more than any insult he could've conjured up.

Because Kuroo could tell he meant it.

"Okay. Congratulations."

Being honest and apologizing had done nothing but make Kuroo feel worse. On the ride back, he blasted music in his headphones, too loud to think.

-

Being a third-year came with the dreaded reality that this was it. This was the final chance to go to nationals, to win nationals, and to do it with the teammates- friends, more accurately- he'd had for years, some since middle school or earlier. Kuroo would never stop playing volleyball, but there were some things about it he'd never get to relive after this.

But Nekoma was at its strongest, and Kuroo felt he was, too. They won their way through the ranks, until only a couple more preliminary games stood between them and nationals.

Kuroo had come armed with knowledge. The guy from Nohebi he'd befriended at training camp two years prior no longer played volleyball, but he seemed to still be close to a lot of the players. He willingly told Kuroo some interesting facts about the current line-up, and then something unrelated but equally interesting.

"You know that girl Daishou was dating?" he'd told Kuroo over the phone. "She broke up with him. Right before the tournament, too. If it was anyone else, I'd be worried about how well they could focus on the games, but I bet Daishou will be fine."

And he looked fine when Kuroo saw him as Nohebi's team passed by them in the hallway of the huge gymnasium complex. As soon as Daishou met his eyes, the battle of barbs began.

"You know your hair doesn't count for your height, right?" he said with a smirk. "Aren't you on the wrong side of 180 centimeters?"

"Please, I don't have to resort to such cheap tactics. Let's talk about you instead." Kuroo went straight for the kill. "Have your emotional scars healed up from being dumped by Mika-chan?"

Daishou flushed. "Dumped? I wasn't- _I_ dumped _her_!"

"Hm, that's not what my reliable sources tell me."

They only stopped heckling each other when they were pulled away by their respective teammates. They met again when Nekoma lost to Fukurodani, making Nohebi their final hurdle.

Daishou was at peak annoyance, buttering up the referees, winning the crowd's favor, and very nearly unhinging Nekoma's strategies by striking at any sign of a weak link. Nohebi was powerful. That was why winning the final coveted Tokyo team slot at nationals from them was so resoundly satisfying.

As winter wore on, all Kuroo thought about was sharpening his skills, helping his teammates overcome their own weaknesses, and working with Kenma to come up with counter-strategies that would work against overwhelming combos like Akaashi and Bokuto or Kageyama and Hinata. Combined with school work and college prep, Kuroo really didn't have time to help Yukiko when she called from the center he used to volunteer at and asked if he could help referee an upcoming tournament.

"It's going to be our biggest one yet," she said. "I thought it'd be nice to show some of our old volunteers how much we've grown."

Kuroo swallowed the refusal he'd been formulating and said, "Who else have you asked?"

"Well, we haven't heard back from him yet, but I did ask Suguru-kun if he wouldn't mind helping. Do you remember him?"

"Barely."

Kuroo checked his calender and when he saw the day of the tournament was on a day he only had morning practice, he told Yukiko he'd be there.

He didn't have any plans for what he'd do or say when he saw Daishou there. He figured he'd find inspiration on the spot, and it ended up coming in the form of brand new ammunition.

Daishou wasn't there solely as a volunteer, it turned out. A look at the roster revealed that one of the players had the same surname as him, and it was her game that Daishou was working. Kuroo glanced over whenever he had a moment to spare. During timeouts, one of the girls would run and give him a hug before joining her team's huddle. She had the same hair and eyes as Daishou and Kuroo wondered if he was teaching her his snake-like ways.

When the first round of games finished, Kuroo slunk up behind Daishou and said, "Don't tell me you drank your black coffee this morning out of a World's Number One Brother mug."

Daishou turned, looking unsurprised. Kuroo assumed he'd been spotted earlier and that Daishou had been waiting for their inevitable encounter. "It sounds more like you're judging me for drinking my coffee black. Are you one of those idiots that uses it for sugar more than caffeine?"

Kuroo held up his hands in surrender. "You got me. I have taste buds, unlike people who only drink things as bitter as their personalities."

Whatever scathing comeback Daishou had was interrupted by his sister running over and throwing her arms around him.

"We won! Did you see how good I did?" she asked.

Daishou smiled down at her. "Your spikes have really gotten strong."

"Because I wanna be a wing spiker like you!" She noticed Kuroo and looked him up and down. "Wait, you're one of those people that beat Suguru-nii-chan!" She stuck her tongue out at him. "You suck!"

"He does," Daishou agreed.

So she had already been corrupted, then.

As she led Daishou away by the hand, Kuroo said, "You aren't planning on missing my games at nationals, are you?"

"You say that like there will be more than one," Daishou said. His sister made another face at Kuroo and pulled Daishou into the crowd.

-

A volleyball game only lasted an hour, two if things got intense, less if one team was no match. In that relatively short space of time, Kuroo was constantly amazed by how much explosive growth could occur.

Lev could learn the meaning of teamwork.

Yamamoto could choose when to take risks and when to act rationally.

Kenma could become passionate.

A game was an entire life in itself. Losing, then, was the same as death. It was a death you could revive from and be stronger for the experience, but a death nonetheless.

At nationals, against Karasuno, Kuroo's high school volleyball career ended in a match they'd played too well to regret.

There were tears, especially from him and Yaku. Even Kai shed a few of his own. The Battle at the Garbage Dump had been fulfilled, but its conclusion thrust Nekoma out of nationals.

They left as a team, into bright sunlight that only highlighted the feel of having lost the chance at glory. Kuroo felt blinded by it, and his eyes were on the ground when Kenma nudged him.

Kuroo looked up and Kenma nodded at something in the distance. No, someone. He could see Daishou's back as he moved away along with everyone else who'd just left the gymnasium.

He actually came.

...Why the hell did he come?

"I'll be right back," Kuroo said and rushed to catch up with him.

When he did, he called out, "Hey, snakeface. What brings you to this part of Tokyo?"

Daishou didn't stop walking. "You're the one who invited me to watch, aren't you?"

Kuroo kept pace with him. "I would've prepared a VIP seat if I'd known you were actually going to come."

"I wouldn't have come if I'd known you were going to lose."

Kuroo didn't flinch from the inevitable insult. He knew Daishou was just trying to sidetrack him, but Kuroo wasn't going to relent. "Why did you come?"

"What, is an interrogation the new admission fee?"

This was another prime example of when to use Occam's razor. It wasn't strange at all that Daishou had come to see how nationals played out. Maybe he hadn't even been watching Kuroo's game. Maybe leaving at almost the same time was pure coincidence.

Kuroo knew the outlandishness of his hopes and decided to risk it all anyway.

"You like me," Kuroo said.

Daishou stopped and stared at him.

"If you're waiting for a punchline, there isn't one. Just admit it, Daishou. You like me."

Daishou resumed walking. He looked back over his shoulder and said, "You didn't play half-bad today."

Kuroo couldn't follow him. He had to get back to his team. But as he did so, a stupid optimism filled him, and it took the solemn expressions of his teammates to ground him again.

They ate together, a meal that could've been celebration had things gone differently, but instead was quiet. The train ride back with Kenma was just as quiet, which was more normal. They split up when Kuroo was almost at his street, Kenma living down another.

He was caught off-guard when he reached his turn-off and found Daishou standing there, leaning against a utility pole and typing on his phone.

Kuroo froze. He didn't want to let his conscious mind interpret this. Instead, he waited for Daishou to look up. Even then, the silence continued. For all the superfluous conversation they were so good at throwing back and forth, there were things they could say without speaking, a level of understanding that didn't make sense but existed all the same.

Everything was heat and anticipation after that. They were back at Kuroo's house, in his room, and he was finally kissing Daishou against his bedroom door.

Unless daydreams counted, this was Kuroo's first kiss. He wasn't exactly graceful or assured about it, and he could feel Daishou's smirk. Daishou put his hands on Kuroo's shoulders and tilted his head, and Kuroo let himself follow Daishou's lead after that.

Things didn't go further than kissing. Kuroo was secretly relieved. If there was a time and place for losing his virginity, it wasn't his childhood bedroom after losing at nationals. Eventually, they did end up on the bed, but with Daishou sitting on the edge and Kuroo sprawled out, feet on his pillows.

"Have you redecorated your room since you were twelve?" Daishou picked up an action figure from the floor and tossed it onto his desk. "Or cleaned it?"

"I've done at least one of those things since then," Kuroo said. "Let me guess, your room perpetually looks like it was just deep cleaned."

"If that's supposed to be an insult, your standards of hygiene are more worrisome than I thought."

There was another lapse of silence. Kuroo wasn't sure what came next. Everything had changed. What had pushed Daishou to finally stop pretending he didn't feel anything for Kuroo? Was it seeing him play at nationals, or some boldness that came from college drawing near?

And when they were in college, would this last between them?

Kuroo was thinking of how best to start a serious conversation, something that wasn't his forte, when Daishou's phone beeped. Kuroo watched as he checked his phone and half-smiled, typing something again.

Now that Kuroo thought about it, that same sort of small smile that seemed so un-Daishou-like had been on his face as he stood waiting for Kuroo.

"Who was that?" he asked.

"None of your business."

Kuroo sat up. "You were smiling."

"Is that a crime? You know what they say about curiosity and cats, don't you?"

Daishou was drawing away from him- not physically, but more intangibly. When his phone beeped a second time, Kuroo let his reflexes take over and snatched it from Daishou's hands.

"Give that back, idiot!" Daishou said, leaning across the bed to reach it.

Kuroo saw all he needed to and dropped it at his side. "You're texting your ex."

Daishou snatched the phone back. Color crept up his cheeks. "Mika's not my ex anymore."

Kuroo felt as though his insides had been unravelled. "You're still dating Mika but you came here to make out with me? What the hell?" His voice rose with each word.

"I like Mika," Daishou said. "I've told you this. You know this."

"But then why?"

All Kuroo's preemptive hopes were shattering, but Daishou didn't look affected by that or by Kuroo's piercing stare. He simply said, "Because I wanted to."

"...You wanted to."

"Yes. And you wanted it, too."

"No, actually, I didn't want to kiss a guy with a girlfriend who conveniently omitted that information. Get out of here, Daishou." Kuroo pointed at the door and turned away. "You're a real piece of shit."

He heard his door open, but of course Daishou couldn't leave without having the last word. "You're the one who wanted to kiss me first," he said.

Then the door shut, and Kuroo had to deal with the second major blow to his heart that day.

-

"Nice block, first-year!"

"Hey, can I borrow the notes from Yamada's lecture?"

"Wanna hang out after class?"

"Practice game next Saturday, be early!"

Kuroo was thrust into the flow of college life and found it easier than expected to swim along. There was volleyball almost daily, classes the biggest size he'd ever been in, new teammates, new friends, a roommate who was starting to get his sense of humor.

He had one complaint. Being single in college sucked.

It wasn't just the sexual frustration. It was seeing everyone around him growing up and getting into their first serious relationships, relationships that might last through four years and then a lifetime. Or relationships that were purely temporary fun, with a different partner each month.

It was no wonder his first game against Daishou's university had him feeling saltier than ever.

"Well, well, well," Kuroo said after the game when their teams were mingling around. "Losing to me looks like it's going to be your lifelong destiny."

Daishou sneered. "Losing your mind from actually having to use it in college? Neither of us stepped on the court, moron."

"Still my colors that won and yours that lost."

"Suguru!"

Kuroo looked up to see that girl, Mika, waving both her hands at Daishou from the stands. "Let's go!" she called.

"I'll be right there," he called back.

"So you two are still a thing?" Kuroo said. "Does she know you kiss guys behind her back?"

"No, and keep your damn voice down." Daishou glanced around to make sure no one was listening. "Are you seriously still upset about that? Grow up, Kuroo. It's not like there was ever going to be something serious between us."

Kuroo wrinkled his nose. "The very notion makes me ill."

"No, it doesn't." He paused. "You know what? I'll call you later. Look forward to it."

Kuroo tried to come up with a retort to that nonsensical yet foreboding statement. "You don't even have my number."

"You think you're the only one with sources?"

It sounded like a bad joke, but the punchline came later on, when Daishou actually did call him. Kuroo assumed that was the unknown number flashing on his phone, anyway. Or maybe the punchline was Kuroo pressing the accept button.

He held the phone up to his ear. "This better be good."

"Oh, it is," Daishou said, silky smooth and unperturbed by Kuroo's flat greeting. "I have a proposition for you. Really, this benefits you more than anything."

"Uh-huh. Because that's the type of guy you are, always doing the world favors."

"Not the world. I'm doing _you_ a favor."

"Get the point, you jabbering snake. My history lecture notes are more interesting than this."

"Fine," Daishou said. "Let's hook up."

Kuroo's stomach dropped. There'd been a chance that was what this call was all about, because what else could Daishou do to taunt him now?

"You have a girlfriend. I don't know how you keep forgetting that."

"I'm not forgetting about Mika," Daishou said. "This doesn't have anything to do with her. It's not that big a deal, Kuroo. There's nothing wrong with using each other."

"You have the moral integrity of a serial killer," Kuroo told him, and ended the call.

His phone screen lit up immediately, alerting him to a new text.

_From: Unknown Number  
Message: Tell me when you're done pretending to have better morals than me._

Kuroo deleted the message, buried his face in his hands, and groaned.

To his credit, it was another six months before he gave in and invited Daishou over.

-

"Kuroo."

"Mm." Kuroo skimmed through another page of his psychology textbook.

_"Kuroo."_

He looked up. "I said, what?"

"I did not come over here to watch you study." Daishou leaned forward and rested his forearms on the textbook.

"Now who's acting like a cat?" Kuroo jerked it free and flipped onto his back, resting the heavy book on his chest to keep reading. "Study for your own finals, then. I told you I'd be busy this weekend."

"I'm finished studying," Daishou said. "It's not hard when you have a brain."

"Speaking of brains, I'll be happy to give you therapy sessions at a discount to psychoanalyze yours. I'm sure you have a lot of issues to work through."

"What a humanitarian."

"That's what I always tell people."

Daishou ended the argument the way that had become common for them, by leaning forward to kiss Kuroo.

Their arrangement had lasted to this, their final year of college. Kuroo felt weird when he thought of Mika, but Daishou had been right. He wasn't above this, and he wanted it.

He kissed the curve of Daishou's neck, letting his hands wander. He liked to take his time. Things might've been awkward and hasty at first, but Kuroo was a fast learner. He slipped a hand under Daishou's shirt, trailing fingers over hidden skin. Daishou shuddered at his feather touch.

Daishou had his own techniques. Fingernails scratching lightly over Kuroo's back, a sensation that drove him mad. A hand teasing its way up his thigh. And those neverending kisses, on lips, against neck, across shoulders.

Finals were forgotten and Mika might as well not have existed. In those moments, Kuroo's world was Daishou, and there was nothing more he wanted.

But after all, moments were all it lasted.

-

"I don't want Italian."

Kuroo looked up from his phone to frown at Daishou. "You've shot down all five of my suggestions so far without offering any of your own."

"This is your neighborhood. Don't you know anywhere good?"

"Only one way to settle this." Kuroo started tapping different restaurant icons on his phone. "Eenie, meenie, miney, mo..."

"You're kidding me."

Kuroo shushed him. "Great, ramen it is!"

He set off across the street and knew another of their pseudo-arguments was over when Daishou followed.

They ended up at a cheap, popular ramen place. It was Saturday in one of Tokyo's most urban areas, so Kuroo considered it lucky they got seats after a mere half hour wait.

Once the ramen came, he was glad Daishou had refused all the options up to it. It was delicious. So much so that he decided he needed to sample Daishou's order, too. He darted his hand forward, only to be thwarted by Daishou's chopsticks forming an X-shaped shield.

"Eat your own food, glutton," he said.

"I'm wounded." Kuroo put his other hand over his heart. "All this time together, and you won't spare a bite of food for me."

"I wouldn't give you a bite of food if you were literally starving and it was your final meal request."

"Weird, since you give me all other sorts of bites."

A hint of color appeared on Daishou's face, which was always a victory. Kuroo grinned and made another move, just managing to get a pinch of noodles to his mouth before Daishou could stop him.

"Have it your way." Daishou made his counterattack, thrusting his chopsticks into Kuroo's bowl.

Kuroo didn't even try to stop him. He simply grinned lazily and rested his chin on his hand. "Hope you like it."

Daishou paused with the ramen noodles almost to his mouth. He looked at Kuroo's bowl suspiciously.

Kuroo laughed. "You look like you actually think I poisoned it."

"Knowing you, you'd be more likely to spit in it."

"Don't really see the problem, since you've definitely had my saliva in your mouth before-"

Daishou stomped on his foot hard. There was no cute coloring to his face this time, just anger. "Shut up. We're not the only people here."

Kuroo sighed and went back to his own meal. It was too easy to cross this line with Daishou and it always made Kuroo wonder what was Daishou like when he went out with Mika. Did he share all his food with her, smiling all the while? Did he hold hands with her as they walked down the sidewalk, sat side by side on the train, chose a restaurant together without any arguments involved?

He didn't know why he bothered with such thoughts, what he was trying to compare. Daishou's genuine dates with Mika with their twisted agreement?

_"There's nothing wrong with using each other."_

Kuroo had eventually believed that, until it stopped feeling like that was all they were doing.

They finished their food in sullen silence, paid separately, and left. The food that had been so delicious at first was now greasy weight in Kuroo's stomach.

"Guess I'll be seeing you," Kuroo said.

"If you're lucky."

Daishou turned to leave. Kuroo's eyes were drawnt to his hand, swinging empty by his side. Would it be so bad to reach out and hold it?

He shook his head to clear it. These thoughts were dangerous, and Daishou would be furious if he knew Kuroo was having them.

Then again, when had Kuroo not done something just because it would make Daishou mad?

He took Daishou's hand.

Daishou was forced to stop. His expression morphed from disbelief to rage- no, to something disguised as rage. Something a lot more like fear. He tore his hand away and looked around, as though paparazzi would appear just to take pictures of their scandalously linked hands.

"If you can't respect our arrangement, then there won't be one anymore," Daishou said.

He left so fast he was practically jogging.

-

Yet less than two weeks later, Daishou was at Kuroo's place again. He was the same as always, which meant mindblowing, but Kuroo couldn't enjoy it. Daishou was giving a message, or rather a test. If Kuroo acted the same as always in return, there wouldn't be a problem. But if he deviated from Daishou's unspoken rules, he'd lose this.

He wasn't sure how much he wanted it anymore, though. It was like trying to date a reflection instead of a real person.

He broke away mid-kiss. "I've had enough of this."

"I don't think you have." Daishou tried to lift Kuroo's shirt, but Kuroo held his wrists still.

"Seriously, Daishou," he said. "Let's talk."

"There's nothing to talk about." Daishou free his hands and used them to pull Kuroo closer. "I told you from the start what I wanted."

"So you really want to keep doing this, what, forever? Even when you're married to Mika? You gonna invite me to the wedding and then fuck me the day after the honeymoon?"

Daishou let go of him. "Stop bringing up Mika."

"I'm done avoiding the issue." He held Daishou's gaze. "What are we? Can you answer that without lying?"

Daishou clicked his tongue in irritation. "Here's the issue, in case you're forgetting. I don't care what sort of future you envision for yourself, but I'm not going to go out of my way to be despised by the general public. I'm not going to put my volleyball career at risk."

"How convenient for you," Kuroo said. "You can dabble with guys on the side while showing the world a picture-perfect life.

"Don't take it out on me just because you don't like girls too."

Daishou stood up and paced the length of Kuroo's cramped bedroom. "So which one of us will be happy?" he asked after a minute. "I'll be a successful athlete with a perfect family. You'll disregard all social protocol, find a guy who can put up with you, and manage to become some mysteriously alluring pro volleyball player with a taboo social life."

Kuroo tried to paint those two pictures in his mind, but they seemed wrong. "Neither of us will be happy if we aren't together."

"You say these things as if they're so simple, even though you know they're not," Daishou said through clenched teeth. "And that's what makes it so insufferable."

"It isn't simple, but it is true. You know it is. You know who you like."

Daishou stopped pacing in front of the window. He stared out it, back turned to Kuroo. "Are you that interested? Then listen to me once and for all. I like Mika. I like you." Kuroo thought he saw a tremor across Daishou's shoulders. His voice was quieter as he finished speaking. "I like myself."

The tremor worsened. Kuroo knew a lie when he heard one.

"I like you," Kuroo said.

He went over and looped his arms around Daishou from behind. He rested his head on Daishou's shoulder and repeated, "I like you."

He realized it was the first time he'd ever said it. Always he'd been too busy accusing Daishou of the reverse. Too busy convincing himself the feelings he had were shallow. But he couldn't lie to himself anymore, especially if he wanted Daishou to stop lying.

He liked Daishou. Daishou liked him. In another world, that would've been enough. They could've been together before Daishou ever met Mika. But a hypothetical world like that didn't matter.

Kuroo held Daishou until he could pretend he wasn't crying. "I like you," Kuroo said one more time. "So go have your normal, happy life."

He let go.

-

Kuroo's final summer vacation was lonely. Despite being objectively busy, his weekends had felt long and empty since he stopped seeing Daishou. Having free time throughout the week made it much worse. He was at a loss for what to do besides stretch out on his bed and binge-watch Niconico videos.

"Kuroo, you're kind of being pathetic."

Kuroo brushed his bangs out of his face so he could frown at Kenma, who was sitting on the floor against his bed. The frown had no effect, since Kenma was staring at his PSP. "Am not."

"Are too."

"Am not."

"Are too."

Kuroo groaned and hugged his pillow tighter to his chest. "I liked him, okay? Even if he's a cheating, scumbag snake with a messed up worldview."

"You don't have to justify it to me."

Kuroo forced himself out of bed. "I need to increase my endorphins. Let's go for a run."

"Hell no."

"Come on, for old time's sake," he persisted. "How often are we both in the neighborhood at the same time?"

"Literally every holiday."

Kuroo soon gave up getting Kenma to move his body more than was strictly necessary to push buttons and went out by himself. Summer was brutal as always, but that just pushed Kuroo harder, until he was sweating enough to cool down. He didn't listen to music as he ran. He listened to his body instead, shutting out every conscious thought.

Kuroo had experienced his fair share of runner's highs. They'd helped him get through one more mile, one more lap, one more step over and over and over again. His brain felt clear and every movement easy. But never before had a runner's high caused him to hallucinate.

He came to a stop, breath ragged and sweat pouring down his face. There was a sudden awareness of the soreness of his muscles, the heat wrapping around him. His legs told him to keep going despite the burn, but all he could do was stare across the intersection as he experienced the worst kind of deja vu.

Daishou was there, phone in hand, back against a pole. The location, his stance, everything was exactly like the day Daishou had given him his first kiss, except that Daishou was wearing a shirt with his university logo. It was the sole proof this wasn't some horribly vivid flashback.

Kuroo wiped at his forehead. He needed to move, to get back to his route. He needed to stop being so pathetic and hung up. And he needed Daishou to cooperate with that resolution instead of appearing here unannounced.

Daishou put his phone away and looked up. "Cat got your tongue?"

"The hell are you doing here?" Kuroo asked, breathing too hard to sound composed. At least he had the run as an excuse.

"Do I have to remind you that I have my own sources? I figured you'd be by here soon enough."

"And why," Kuroo said, "would that be important to you? If you're hoping for a quickie, you're out of luck."

Daishou crossed the street and looked Kuroo up and down. "Believe me, I would've chosen a time you weren't so gross and sweaty." And then, as though to belie his own words, he moved even closer and kissed Kuroo.

Kuroo almost jumped back. The physical contact made it next to impossible to write this off as some heat wave-induced illusion. "You once threw a fit because I tried to hold your hand in public," he said. "What are you playing at now?"

"I'm not playing," Daishou said. "I'm doing something that deeply pains me. I'm admitting that for once in your life, you were right." He paused, letting his words sink in. "I'm not happy without you, Kuroo."

Kuroo didn't need this. Months of no contact, broken by something as absurd as Daishou seeking him out expressly to kiss him, prying eyes be damned- did the universe actively despise him?

"This is messed up," he said. "Mika-"

"-is not longer my girlfriend." Daishou bit his lip. "I broke up with her."

Kuroo could tell Daishou wasn't lying, but he couldn't understand it. "Why? You told me a thousand times how much you like her."

"I do. A lot. But apparently I like you more." His mouth twisted up, like the words were sour. "I thought I was building my perfect future. But when we cut things off, I lost what was actually taking me there."

Kuroo had let his imagination get ahead of him one too many times where Daishou was concerned. Now Daishou was promising bliss, but Kuroo was wary of the pain that was far more likely. "Am I supposed to believe you mean this and you aren't going to change your mind the second you miss Mika or you get backlash for dating a guy?"

"You should believe it," Daishou said. "Because you're the one person I've never lied to."

Kuroo's breath caught in his throat. It was dangerous to listen to Daishou, to be entranced long enough by a snake's glimmer to be bitten.

But if it was his fate to live alongside Daishou's poison, all the more reason for him to start building up an immunity.

He kissed Daishou. He closed his eyes and felt like he was reliving their first kiss, when things had almost been innocent, and he'd been convinced a kiss meant they were together for good.

"I'm not going to let you change your mind," he said when he reopened his eyes.

"I won't." Daishou took a step back. "Now that that's settled, go take a shower before you touch me again. You're disgusting."

Kuroo grinned and pulled him into a tight, sweaty hug. Daishou almost yelped, trying to wriggle free.

"I take it all back!" he hissed. "You're the worst."

"Too bad you have to deal with me for the rest of your life."

Though Daishou was still squirming to get away, the corners of his mouth turned up. "My luck really is the worst."

"Don't you know that's what happens when a black cat crosses the street?"

The banter was off again. Kuroo felt something beyond the fleeting euphoria of a runner's high as he and Daishou held hands all the way back to his house, arguing all the while.

A hundred false starts had been worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> I can't wait for Daishou to finally be animated.
> 
> runicfairy.tumblr.com


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